Forgotten September
by Tanzdiktator
Summary: Just a scene described from the point of view of a female Spectre. If this tickles the fancy of others, I may just draw this out into a much longer story. I do have tons of ideas on where I could take this. Rated M 'cause reasons. (This is also my first ever submission.)


**Forgotten September**

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"_If you don't get lost, there's a chance you may never be found." ~Author Unknown_

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The Spectre ran, out of breath, lungs burning as if igniting from the inside out. Each footfall fell heavy, the weight of taking another step nearing impossibility as the exhaustion weighed down her ankles like lead.

Behind her, a rifle clattered to the ground, chamber empty, the clip expended. The scope shattered as it impacted the ground, the tiny flecks of glass scattering above the quaking ground beneath. Each shattered piece reflected back a flurry of movement as the Zerg stampeded after the fleeing Terran and the others that had stood their ground against the advancing swarm. All they had to do was buy time, but their best efforts were easily overshadowed, the Zerg out-numbered them a hundred to one.

Even the Spectre knew she was bested now, and as her body screamed silently in exhaustion, she continued to run, passing by several stragglers of her faction. Left and right, zerglings leapt onto the heavily armored Marines, knocking them down and prying the metal off the human's fragile bodies with their powerful jaws. Effortlessly they worked to rip the pieces of metal free. One could compare the function and efficiency of their jaws to can openers... Organic, hungry can openers fueled by the sadistic rage of a rogue hive mind.

The screams of the dying from both Zerg and Terran filled the Spectre's ears as the orders from the Commander blared into her headset. Muffled orders, almost overshadowed by the gunfire on the other end.

This city was lost, there was nothing the Terran forces could do. After several days of non-stop combat, there was no choice but to pull back and retreat.

As the air above shuddered and ignited with the fires of clashing forces, a small group of Vikings suddenly dove down through the dark cloudy sky to collide with Mutalisks, sending shells and green blood raining down into the chaos below. Evac-Shuttles swooped down shortly afterwards, desperately attempting to scoop up the remaining ground forces as they fled from the mass of Zerg that had already began slamming into the lines of Soldiers like an angry tide. In the distance, a Thor was shoved aside by an Ultralisk with little effort, the cockpit quickly smashed under a powerful leg as the behemoth bellowed an earth-shattering roar that reverberated through the Spectre's chest.

The sky rained fire, metal and blood. Both alien and human. A sight few had ever been cursed to witness, and even fewer could live to pass the horror story along.

As the Zerglings caught up to the fleeing Spectre, her armored head glanced back, only to see multiple mouthfuls of powerful teeth snapping in her direction. Claws and wings fluttered about as they closed the distance with little effort. Their forms bounded over their fallen brethren and the corpses of humans.

The deep hum of engines drew her attention forward once again as she ran, the Evac-shuttle beginning its take off before the Zerg drew close enough to take it down.

The Spectre, despite her condition and situation, was not going to get left behind. She would make sure of that.

Forcing all over her energy into one last desperate sprint, the fire in her lungs spreading to the rest of her body, muscles screaming in agony as she leapt up onto the mangled hull of destroyed Siege Tank. Her armored hands scraped across the blood-soaked chassis as she hauled herself up, and then jumped off, her hand extended towards the Evac Shuttle as a Marine sitting inside the open door extended his own heavily armored hand to grab the Spectre by the arm and haul her inside.

Collapsing upon the bloodied floor of the shuttle when the marine released her arm, the spectre began gasping for air, her lungs working overtime to produce enough oxygen and get it to her starving muscles.

The vibrations that rose from the floor of the Shuttle as it began its ascension into the clouds above the battlefield rattled her awareness as light red eyes slowly swept among her surroundings from behind the three red lenses of her helm, two of which were distorted by spider webbing cracks. Only a dozen or so soldiers had made it inside, and they were all standing with an eerie stillness. Following the direction of their collective attention, the Spectre slowly lifted her head and looked out the open side door she had been pulled into.

A very subtle and uncommon feeling of guilt tugged idly at her heartstrings as her stare fell upon the organic ocean below where countless Terran soldiers were being left behind only to be eaten alive...

Yet, the pain she felt steadily rising in her chest was not for the unknown faces of the fallen, but one particular person whom she had been separated from when the final battle began. She had just become so engrossed and caught up in the heat of battle, that the survival and combat instincts had kicked in. But now, as she lay on the floor of the Evac shuttle, all of the adrenaline was beginning to fade, and the realization of what had just been lost hit her like a ton of bricks. A flash back of a man's voice commanding her to retreat sent a shiver through her entire body.

"Herschel..." she'd whisper under her breath, her armored form slowly sitting up and attempting to stand. The gesture almost sent her falling back to the floor, but the Marine from before was there to help her up.

"That was one hell of a jump you did back there."

The Spectre took a moment to turn her attention to the man speaking to her.

Noticing her lethargic body language, along with something else, the Marine would motion with his other hand to her stomach area. "We need a Medic here," his voice would call out to the group that surrounded them in the shuttle. The tension in the air lessened only slightly as their zoned out expressions faded and heads began turning to relay the message back among the group in search of a medic.

Confused, the Spectre's head would tilt down, hidden eyes falling upon the large Zerg Spine protruding from the armor covering her stomach, the jagged tip was glazed in dark red blood that was still oozing from her wound. The armor also stained with red, but not as much as one would expect, due to the thin middle layer between the armor plates that contained a thick jelly-like substance that aided in coagulating the blood to keep her from bleeding out.

Of course, that wouldn't stop her from dying if she didn't get help.

"Oh, shit..." she'd whisper, her attention rising to a flurry of movement as a white armored figure pushed the group surrounded them aside.

"Move!" a female voice would shout out from beneath the cracked dome helm of the medic armor as she pushed the smaller infantry soldiers aside and crouched to eye the wound. "Damn...Looks like the Zerg got the last hit in," her tone was filled with defeat, but she had obviously seen much worse over the last few days in battle. One could only imagine the horrors Medics in the Terran faction had to witness for days at a time out on the field.

On her wrist, a small medical device would extend up and out from the scorched armor, its small front lens illuminating and projecting a green hologram grid that scanned the spine wedged into the Spectre's stomach area, "Call in the medical staff on the cruiser, we have another one who needs surgery A-S-A-F-P... This one's got a Hydralisk spine wedged in her stomach. Entry wound from the back. She's lucky it didn't hit her spine." The order was directed at the three pilots of the shuttle that were somewhere out of the Spectre's vision as the Medic grabbed the Spectre by the arm and inspected the flexible joint section for any imperfections. When a hole was found and pried further open to help gain entry to the soft tissue below, a needle was suddenly brought into the picture and shoved down into her flesh. "Morpheme, its to help keep you sane because once your body comes down off the adrenaline high, you're going to be in a world of hurt. I'm out of everything else."

Once her job was done, the Medic turned and stumbled back out of the picture to check on the other injured soldiers in the back. Most likely they were worse off than her. At this point, there was nothing the Medic could do for Jericho but hope she stayed alive long enough for the medical staff on the Battle Cruiser to get her onto an operating table. Pulling that spine out now would only kill the Spectre faster.

As for the Marine, he would look down in a worried gesture at the woman he held in his arms, his body swaying slightly with the jerky movements of the shuttle, "Just stay with us now. I know you're probably tired, but you have to stay awake." His concerned stare was hidden behind a gold tinted lens, but it flowed through with his words and desperation to keep her alert and alive. "You got a name, kid?"

His answer never came, the Spectre just hung limp in his grip, her body unable to support itself now that the muscles had surpassed pain and become numb. Even the lungs that had been burning inside of her chest seemed to stop feeling anything whilst her stare fell back towards the shuttle door that was now closed, the air around them pressurizing as they began their exit of the planet's atmosphere.

Memories and thoughts replayed in frantic chunks. They came and went as if someone had grabbed the events of the last few days and tossed them up into the air, and like pieces of tattered paper, they fell and played in mixed order. Some were blurry, others clear as day. Flashes of Zerg jaws, spraying blood, people shouting, muzzle flashes... Yet, none of them seemed to grab the Spectre's attention long enough until a familiar figure clad in black and red Spectre armor flashed across her vision.

"Hershel.." she'd whisper again, this time the Marine heard something.

His arm gently shook the Spectre back into awareness,"What's your name, soldier?"

The Spectre's thoughts would break apart and fade once his words reached her ears for a second time. Shifting her attention to him, those light red eyes would stare out from beneath the stream-lined Spectre helmet. The Marine almost repeated himself a third time until his answer finally came.

"Jericho.." she managed to say in a pained tone, but hesitated when she felt her mind waver and start teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. "Jericho Vanova..." came the answer more fully, her face contorted into a grimace below her helm as the internal battle for consciousness began. Too much blood was being lost, too much energy had been exerted during the battle.

"Darron," came his quick reply, "Pleasure to meet you Jericho. We are almost to the Cruiser, so hang in there, alright?" His head would rise to eye the distraught faces of the other soldiers and marines around them. The air felt thick, almost suffocating. Infused with defeat, fear and sadness, the tension was almost overwhelming in the silence that fell over everyone. It was potent, keeping any positive emotion from sparking into existence. Then again, what positive emotion was there? Thousands had been left behind, and they were the lucky ones who got out alive? Where was the fairness in that?

Jericho would not seem to effected by this however, her thoughts and emotions only lingered on one person whom she silently prayed got out of that living hell like she did. Deep down, however, her fears were confirmed by a powerful intuition.

Slowly lifting her hand, the segmented armor that enclosed her fingers would flex with the weak movement as she gently wrapped the digits around the spine protruding from her stomach. The pain, there were no words to describe it. Though her consciousness was still teetering dangerously close fading, Jericho felt a deep, hot anger rising up through the numbness of her body as she glared at the object in her hand that was threatening her life.

Revenge didn't sound like too bad of an option now. Though the initial hatred for Zerg burned deeply in every Terran individual, Jericho had never been directly effected by the Zerg in the way she was now. Sure, they killed millions of others, but no one she cared about or knew. This time though. They had taken someone from her, something she wanted back. As desperate as it sounded, the want to pursue for a closure to this sudden tear in her life was understandable.

Mentally pulling up the various HUDs in her helmet, Jericho would mute herself, preventing anyone from hearing anything she said behind the helmet as her mind broke down and released the strong demeanor she normally held up. After all, she was a Spectre, a tool for war, there was no time to stop and cry like a little bitch about the hell she was introduced into on a near daily basis.

But...this time it was different...The pain of loosing Herschel, her partner in nearly everything she did, was bringing up emotions she could only hope to control... Though they both understood the danger of their chosen paths, this tear in normalcy hit Jericho harder than she could have ever predicted.

And for the first time since the Spectre could remember, she cried, her body slumping almost lifelessly while convulsing with her muted sobs. It was then the dark patches of unconsciousness began enveloping her vision, and Jericho's body slumped in Darron's arms. The shuttle they stood within suddenly rumbled and came to a stop, docking within the cruiser.

"Let's fix you up," Darron would say quietly, lifting Jericho's unconscious form up into arms to carry her out of the shuttle doors and into the care of the awaiting medics.

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_So. After a couple of years of lurking and being afraid of posting work. I finally have. I debated for long hours with myself on whether this was a good idea or not. Honestly, I still don't know the answer to that. I suppose I will be finding out, yes?_

_Sadly, I have struggled with finding a particular Timeline to put this story in. I would say this is taking place during the end of Heart of the Swarm (whatever year that is...around 2500?). However, the mentioned Zerg outbreak is driven by another Hive-Mind (not Kerrigan). There will also probably be more than one. If anyone wants to help with this, feel free to PM me.  
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_Will this end up being a story? I don't know. I'll let any readers decide. :) If so, I'll go through and solidify the timeline and locations to fit a story properly.  
_

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_Thank you in advance to anyone who took the time to read this and review. Your attention is much appreciated._

**- _Tanz_**


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